


I'll See You On The Other Side

by miraculouskittynoir (fangirl0430)



Series: Death Doesn't Discriminate [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Poor Mari, Prequel, Self-Hatred, cataclysm is seriously a bitch..., poor kitty, so much suffering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl0430/pseuds/miraculouskittynoir
Summary: Even heroes fall.And sometimes, they take their partners with them.*a prequel to "My Love, Take Your Time"*





	

He had told her.

“Ladybug, I’m in love with you.”

Six words. Six, simple words, and he had finally put himself out there, handing her his heart on a silver platter.

And she had destroyed it with ten.

“Chat, I’m sorry, but I’m in love with someone else.”

Just like that.

It had hurt. Badly.

She was being honest, which he could appreciate. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

But Chat is supposed to take it in stride, smile and pretend like his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest and stomped on.

That day, he couldn’t do it.

 “I’m sorry, Chaton. Are you going to be okay?”

“I’m actually not feeling so great. I think I’m going to head out. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ladybug.”

“Chat, wait—”

But he had already been vaulting through the sky, tears stinging his eyes and his heart ripped to pieces.

* * *

 

He doesn’t remember the akuma.

He doesn’t remember the fight.

He doesn’t remember…

But _she_ does…

* * *

 

“Chat please! This isn’t you! Fight it!”

“HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?” he screams at her, swinging his baton. She vaults backwards, putting a few more yards between them. She’s on the defensive, not wanting to hurt him while also watching out for fleeing civilians. But he’s fighting viciously, lashing out with deadly precision that borderlines terrifying. She’s never seen him fight like this. But then again, she guesses she’s never seen him wearing white instead of black either.

“I know you!” she calls, dodging another swing. “You’re my partner!”

“YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME!” She’s looking for the akuma, trying to figure out where it could be. She doesn’t think it could be in his miraculous, because that just doesn’t seem possible. Maybe his bell? The cat ears? The tail? God, she has no idea. Maybe this is another Dark Cupid scenario, where a kiss will save the day?

“I know that you care about people, and that you never pass up a cat pun,” she says. He swings at her again, and this time she jumps over the pole and slings her yo-yo out at him, wrapping it around his leg while bounding backwards and whipping the string over a streetlamp. “I know that you secretly love rom-coms and hate crosswords.” She gives the string a good, hard pull, wrapping it under her elbow for leverage. “I know you still have to think for a second about which way is left or right.” He flies up feet first, swinging towards her in a long arc. But instead of swinging helplessly like she had hoped, he swings close enough to the taunt yo-yo string to wrap his baton behind it and pull, causing her to stumble forward and lose her grip on the string. He falls to the ground, somehow landing on his feet, her yo-yo on the ground beside his white boots. “I know you feel like you’re all alone, Chat, but you’re not!”

“You made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me,” he says, kicking her yo-yo behind him.

“Chat Noir, please—”

“IT’S CHAT BLANC!” And then he charges her, baton braced at his side. She runs at him, thinking over how to get back to her yo-yo. Like a fencer, he lunges forward with his baton, and she grabs onto it and handsprings over his head, shoving the baton down at the same time to give herself some time. She lands on her feet and runs for her yo-yo. But just when she’s within reach, something small slams into her back and throws her forward, past the yo-yo. She lands in a crouch two meters away from it, turning around to see Chat’s baton shrink back to its normal size. He must have used it to knock her away.

“I don’t want to fight you, Chat!” she yells. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees people hiding in a nearby shop, eyes wide and terrified. On the other side of the street, people run by, some taking pictures with their phones as they go.

“Good,” he growls. “That will make it so much easier to end you.” And then his lips curl up into a feral grin, and it makes her blood run cold. He’s never been like this, and she’s honestly more terrified than she has ever been.

She darts forward, grabbing the yo-yo just in time to deflect the baton that he threw at her, the metal rod somehow rebounding right back into his hand. He’s already running towards her, swinging the baton behind his head and attacking with a flying leap. She slings the yo-yo around a bike rack behind him and retracts it, sliding underneath him as the metal baton slams into the ground right where her head was, fracturing the concrete. He whips around, swinging the baton around to try to catch her off guard. But she’s already on her feet, and she is able to parry his attack with her yo-yo before he winds back for an overhead swing. She side-steps as he brings the baton down hard, and the moment it hits the concrete, she stomps as hard as she can on it, forcing the baton out of his hands. It clangs on the ground and retracts, and before he can recover and grab it, she whips the yo-yo, wraps him in the string, and throws him a solid ten meters away. He lands in a crouch, and when he stands back up, she has her yo-yo spinning in one hand, his baton braced in the other.

“It’s over, Papillon!” she yells. “Let him go!”

Chat stands there for a moment, staring at her and beyond her at the same time, his white tail swishing back and forth in agitation. Papillon must be talking to him. But it doesn’t last long, because it’s only a second later that his eyes meet hers again, that sinister smirk tugging at his lips again.

“Cataclysm,” he snarls, and almost instantly, tangles of black magic engulf his right hand, the black startling against the white of his suit.

“Chat, you don’t have to do this,” she warns him.

“Oh, _my Lady_ , but I do,” he grins, clenching his fist. “You hurt me, so now, I’m going to hurt you.”

“You can fight this,” she insists. “I know you can. Fight him! You are _stronger_ than him. You can beat him!” And there’s a moment when his eyes seem to cloud, and he blinks a few times, head cocking to the side. “Come on, Chat. You can do it. I believe in you.” But then the moment is gone, his eyes going steely and hard again, any trace of her partner disappearing like a wisp of smoke.

“Are you done?” he sneers.

She can’t use her Lucky Charm. She has no idea where the akuma is, and she can’t risk limiting herself to five minutes when she doesn’t know. It’s too risky.

But he just activated his Cataclysm. Which means that, the moment he uses it, he will have five minutes before he transforms back. If she can get him to use it and then keep him busy for the five minutes, maybe she can get her partner back.

That is, assuming Papillon’s akumatization didn’t fix that little caveat.

“Chat,” she says as evenly as she can manage, “I swear I will fix this.”

“My love,” he scoffs. “Take your time.”

And then Alya comes running up the street behind Chat, her phone at the ready, and Ladybug isn’t the only one who notices, Chat’s white ear flicking in her direction.

And his lips slowly stretch into that smile that sends a shiver up her back.

And he slowly turns towards Alya.

“Run!” Ladybug yells at her, and Alya’s eyes go wide when she sees Chat. She goes running, but Chat takes off after her, and Ladybug spins her yo-yo, wraps it around him, and yanks him back, all while using his baton to vault herself towards and over him, placing herself between him and her best friend. He uses his left hand to pull the string still wrapped around him, making her stumble forward, though she keeps her grip on the yo-yo this time. But it puts her within his reach, and his right hand reaches out for her, black magic swirling around his fingers. She ducks to the side, tangling his arm in the string and twisting his arm behind his back, forcing him to clench his right hand into a fist so he doesn’t accidentally touch himself. He turns against the hold, bringing his free elbow back and aiming at her face. She ducks under it, but instead of continuing through the turn, he brings his arm back, catching her around the neck and throwing her over his shoulder. She hits the ground hard enough to make her gasp, and the few, precious seconds she needs to breathe again are enough time for him to wiggle out of the yo-yo string. He’s over her in an instant, and she points his baton at him and extends it, shooting him back about twenty meters. She notices that the magic in the baton feels a little off when she extends it, like it’s fighting her even though it still obeys. It’s almost as if…

She kicks up onto her feet. Shrinking the staff back into its normal, smaller size, she examines it, glancing up at Chat as he stands up all that distance away to see if her hunch is correct. The widening of his eyes when he sees her glance between the two is the only answer she needs.

The akuma is in his baton.

“No!” he screams, running at her, top speed.

The yo-yo held under her arm, she takes either end of the staff in each hand and steps down on the middle with her foot, putting as much pressure into it as she can. It gives a little, but the solid metal is strong, and Chat is quickly bearing down on her. She gives it one, hard stomp, and the baton bends, not enough to break, but enough to damage it, forcing the akuma wiggling out the end of it.

_He's ten meters away._

She drops the bent baton and spins her yo-yo, eyes locked on the akuma.

_Five meters._

She whips her yo-yo around, capturing the akuma inside and bringing the yo-yo back to her chest.

_One meter, his hand is out-stretched toward her._

The yo-yo in one hand and the end of the string in the other, she wraps his arm and yanks it to the side, away from her. His momentum carries him right into her.

_Why is he smiling?_

She whips his arm behind him. His lips are right next to her ear.

“Seems as though I’m not the one who doesn’t know left from right,” he whispers.

 _She’s got his left hand. She doesn’t even see his right hand_ —

She screams and collapses.

_Everyone’s luck runs out eventually._

* * *

 

Alya had seen, had fallen to her knees when she saw whose still body Chat had in his arms.

He presses a kiss to Marinette’s head, sobs still tearing from his throat.

Her earrings are as red as the twin tracks of blood dripping from her mouth and nose.

He wipes the blood away, carefully closing her eyes.

_How could he not know it was her?_

The tears stream faster, and he looks over at Alya. She is staring at him like he is the enemy, like he is to be feared and hated.

He doesn’t blame her.

“D-did you kn-know?” he rasps through his sobs. “Did y-you know it w-was her?”

Alya just stares at him, stares at Marinette, stares at him. Her mouth moves, trying to form a sentence but failing, tears flowing down her cheeks in waterfalls.

“You killed her.”

He turns away, pressing his face into Mari’s hair, wishing he could get away from here but knowing he can’t leave her. Not like this.

He can’t leave her alone.

His ring beeps a warning.

He can’t leave her alone.

He _can’t_.

He _won’t_.

He won’t he won’t he won’t he…

He can’t stay, either.

Still weeping, he presses another kiss to her hair.

_Why won’t she wake up?_

“My love, I’m so sorry. I failed you. I’m sorry. Please come back to me…”

She’s so still, so peaceful, so _cold_ … Blood-red earrings shimmer in the dying light.

“I’m sorry.”

Carefully, he removes her earrings, clutching them tightly in his hand.

“What are you doing?” Alya screams. He looks at her. She’s on her feet, staring at him, accusing him, tears still streaming down her face.

“I’m sorry,” he manages. “I _have_ to—”

“Put them back!” she screams. People are emerging from the shops, covering their mouths in shock when they see, turning back in tears.

His ring beeps again.

He has to go.

Tears are still dripping down his face as he gently lays Marinette down on the ground, unable to take his eyes off her.

_My Lady is… My Lady was…_

_I…_

Her earrings burn in his hand.

His rings beeps.

He glances back at Alya. She is still standing back, but she looks murderous.

“Give them back,” she says in a dead-even tone. “They don’t belong to you.”

_I’m sorry._

“I can’t.”

“I will ruin you, you goddamn traitor!”

“I know.”

“So give them _back_!”

_She was my first friend…_

“Tell her parents I’m sorry.”

And then he’s running, grabbing his ruined baton as he goes, running as fast as his feet will take him, as far as they will take him, Alya screaming at him.

He doesn’t look back.

He can’t.

He won't.

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaand that's the story of how "My Love, Take Your Time" came about...
> 
> Hooray for Alya providing even MORE ANGST... YOU WEREN'T EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE IN THIS HOW DID YOU GET HERE???
> 
> So yeah, this was sorta what I had in mind for the background behind "My Love, Take Your Time". The order which you read the two stories doesn't really matter (at least, in my mind it doesn't...). Pain is pain is pain...
> 
> So, yeah... I hope you enjoyed this feels-trip! Let me know what you think in the comments!
> 
> PS: Anyone notice that this one's title is in the other story, and the other story's title is in this one??? :D
> 
> PSS: So many Hamilton references! This "series" just sorta took on it's own Hamilton theme, and I went with it... Three blatant Hamilton references in this story (including the title)... Whooooops...


End file.
